


a bard in the hand is worth two in the bush

by witchertrashbag (intothegarbagechute)



Series: Yennskier [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothegarbagechute/pseuds/witchertrashbag
Summary: Jaskier buys Yennefer gloves as a gift. Turns out she has a small kink?
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Yennskier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809091
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	a bard in the hand is worth two in the bush

“I just thought you’d like them,” Jaskier says, shifting his weight a bit nervously under Yennefer’s sharp gaze. “They looked like you.”

Yennefer appraises the gloves in her hand. They’re a beautiful, deep purple color that seems to shift in the light. Clearly finely made, and must have been expensive, even for Jaskier. But Yennefer has lived a lifetime or two’s worth of fine luxuries to make up for her _before_ , and discovered that many of them are beautiful but rarely comfortable.

These gloves, however, are sensuality itself.

The leather is buttery soft– thin. And as she can’t help but slip them onto her long fingers, they meld perfectly to her hands. If they look beautiful, the experience of wearing them is even more rich and satisfying.

She glances at the bard, a small smile flirting at the edge of his mouth.

“They’re fine,” she says. And she sees the smile become a smirk. Her breath hitches at the calm, steady fire in his eyes, and before she can really think about it, she says, softly:

“Get on your knees.”

Jaskier takes a step toward her, reminding her he’s really a bit taller than she is, before sinking right to them. She hides a flush with a chuckle.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you to do, bard.”

He gazes up at her and says, so earnestly: “If I’m on my knees before you, Yenna, I know it’s going to be fun.”

He has to stop talking like that. He’s just got to. And somehow she’s already slipped three gloved fingers into his mouth to do the job, pressing his tongue down. She watches as he arches into her touch, with his tongue, with his back, immediately displaying himself for her, leaving his mouth open obediently.

A fucking twinkle in his eye.

She slaps him. Enjoys the little surprised gasp he lets out. Is aggrieved to find how much she enjoys his reddening cheek, the mischievous grin on his face. So she does it again. And again. Until the delicious little whimpers he’s making turn into moans, and his cheek is red.

Then she grabs his hair, pulling his head back so he’s looking up at her. With the other hand, she drags her thumb down the vein in his throat, the deep purple against his pale skin, observing him. His eyes flutter slightly.

“ _Please, Yenna– let me–”_ he whispers.

She nods and gives him what he wants, watching the joy and hunger flicker in his eyes as he slowly draws the hem of her skirt up, kissing her thighs after his fingers make their way up. He glances at her once more before she feels the soft press of her fingers against her undergarments, gently teasing, discovering just how wet she already is. Soon his face has disappeared beneath the fabric of her dress, his tongue pressing into her, his hands cupping her ass to hold her steady, and he’s making the most ridiculous needy little noises as he slowly, very slowly teases and takes her apart.

She comes quietly, shuddering, fisting his hair in those gloves as he relentlessly presses against her, drawing every last breath of pleasure from her, and suddenly he’s licking his lips and holding her, standing and close, to his chest.

When she looks up at him again, he looks so absurd, so fucking _soft_ she has to do something about it– she pushes him away, and all the idiot does in response is bite his lip eagerly, ready for whatever’s next.

“Hands and elbows on the bed,” she tells him, and as he whimpers and eagerly turns to obey, she snaps her fingers, dissolving his clothes away entirely.

After all, the only way to stop a soft gaze like that is with a good railing, Yennefer thinks, collecting her harness and strap. 

She won’t stop until his body is marked red: from his blushes, from her hands, from her ardor.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted over at the ol' [witchertrashbag](https://witchertrashbag.tumblr.com/) and I forgot I never cross-posted.


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